Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
by Beaglicious
Summary: She wasn't the girl whose hand he had planned on holding when he walked out of the church that day... SC. No spoilers.


Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

Disclaimer: CBS and the various parties associated with own all recognizable characters.

A/N: Written for the MiamiFicTalk Prompt Challenge. Prompt # 8 - Touch. Rated T for language.

Summary: She wasn't the girl whose hand he had planned on holding when he walked out of the church that day... SC. No spoilers.

He was sure that by now the church would be empty. It had been over three hours since he had been left standing at the altar, and there was no reason for anyone to still be sitting out there. Emily, his would-be wife and now ex-fiancée, had never shown up, and after her maid of honor had run down the aisle to whisper the news into Tim's ear, her family had quickly gone in search of their daughter. Tim's family was conspicuously missing, although the reason for their absence was a mystery to everyone but him. Horatio had spoken with Tim briefly and had promised to take care of the team, understanding that, for now, Tim needed space. Tim knew his rejection of his co-workers would sting, but he just couldn't summon up the energy to face them. Even the priest had left, clasping Tim warmly on the shoulder and reminding him that the door to the rectory was always open.

Tim sighed deeply and stood up. He had long since shed his jacket and tie, and now he untucked his once-crisp oxford shirt as well. He raked his hands through his hair, knowing that it was probably standing straight up in some places, but not caring in the least bit. Tim tossed his jacket and tie over his arm and headed slowly for the parking lot. If he could just make it home and grab the keys to his bike, then he could be long gone before anyone dared come looking for him.

The sanctuary was dark and blessedly quiet. Two large flower sprays were still standing on either side of the altar, and Tim knew that they would stay there until the last Mass was said the following evening. Somehow, it seemed wrong to leave flowers meant for a wedding that had never occurred, but they were hardly his concern now.

Head bowed and lost in his thoughts, Tim didn't see her until he was nearly on top of her. She was sitting in the last pew, her back ramrod straight and her hair in a low, neat bun. He was surprised that, given their history, she had come today, although she had received an invitation. He briefly considered walking right past her, but found that he couldn't. Even now, five years after they had broken up, he couldn't ignore her, although he knew that she wouldn't have held it against him if he had. Still, he wasn't in the mood to be cordial, and his recognition of her presence was gruff.

"What are you doing here?" he growled. He had already had his heart broken once that day, and he wasn't in the mood to revisit the heartbreak he had suffered at her hands.

She pursed her lips and said nothing for a moment. "I know this is really bad timing, Tim."

He scoffed. "You think?"

She nodded, agreeing with him, which caught him off-guard. "But I knew that if I didn't catch you here, then you were going to jet out of town without saying good-bye to any of us."

"That was the plan," he acknowledged. He had already resigned himself to losing the money he had deposited towards the honeymoon, but he wasn't going to lose his vacation as well. There was no telling when he would again have the opportunity to take off so much time, and he needed to regroup before returning to work.

"And then you were just going to sit and stew and sulk for two weeks, and come back to work even angrier than when you left." She raised one eyebrow as she said this, daring him to disagree with her.

"What's it to you?" he demanded. His words were hurting her, finding their mark too easily. He could see it in her eyes, even though her facial expression never changed.

"I don't like seeing you like this," she said quietly, refusing to fight with him.

"It's none of your business what I'm like," he responded tersely, not wanting her compassion. "And you didn't seem to care when it was you who was breaking my heart."

Her stoic expression finally faded. "You're right," she agreed, surprising him again. "About me not seeming to care. But I did care, and I'm sorry that I didn't make that clear. I was too wrapped up in myself and how I felt. I should have thought more about you and less about me. Maybe…maybe if I had, then we wouldn't be here like this today."

Tim laughed out loud. "This mess hardly has anything to do with you. In fact, it has nothing to do with you. Which is why I'm still not sure why you're here."

"I told you why I'm here," she said, her voice low and even. "Because I care. And I want to make sure that you know that."

"It's not your place to care anymore," he answered brusquely. "You didn't care when it mattered, and now…now it doesn't matter if you care or not."

"I always cared, Tim."

"Now that's funny," he said. "Because, if I recall, you not caring is exactly why we broke up."

She broke eye contact with him then, and looked away. Tim sighed. He wanted to leave, and would have left had she not looked so pitiful, and had not her earlier agreements with him surprised him so.

Tim draped his jacket and tie over the pew in front on her. "Scoot," he told her. She moved over, and Tim flopped down next to her. "Don't take this as anything," he warned her. "I'm only sitting down because it's obvious you're not going to drop this anytime soon, and I've done enough standing up in this church today."

She raised her hands up in defense. "I would never assume…"

They were silent for a moment, and Tim closed his eyes. He didn't even want to go home and hop on his bike any more. He just wanted to curl up in his bed and forget that this day had even happened. But she was here with some sort of misguided notion that he needed someone to help him through this, and this notion was accompanied by the even more ridiculous idea that she was that person.

"I'm really sorry this happened to you, Tim," she said finally. "As trite as it may sound, I really did want you to be happy."

Tim turned his head to look at her. "Eh," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess it's better this way." He straightened his head and looked forward again. "What's the divorce rate at these days, anyways, forty percent? Emily probably just saved us both a second trip to the court house."

They lapsed into silence again. She looked over at him, noting the strain around his eyes and lips. Tim didn't like to fail at anything, so when he did, he shut down and pulled away, attacking anyone who tried to console him. It was a classic defense mechanism, but it took her seeing it as an outsider to realize what he was doing.

It was what he had done when she had panicked after he had told her that he loved her. She had asked for space, and had genuinely needed it, but she hadn't wanted to break up with him. God, she hadn't wanted to lose him. She had wanted to keep him, had wanted to keep him forever. But he was moving through their relationship at a faster pace than her, and she hadn't been able to handle it. So she had asked for time, and he had given it to her. And then he had withdrawn and had become so curt and cold with her that she had started to wonder if he had really meant what he had said. When his attitude didn't improve, she had decided that his declarations hadn't been genuine, and she had ended it.

It had been months before he had managed to stop snarling whenever she walked in the room, and it was over a year before she was able to coax a smile out of him. It wasn't until he met Emily that she actually felt like they had become friends once more. Although he had gone on plenty of dates between her and Emily, no one ever lasted for longer than a few weeks. And then he met Emily, and fell head over heels in love. And only then did she realize that she loved him, and had loved him for a very long time.

It had been a whirlwind romance and an abbreviated engagement, a mere four months from ring to altar. He was making light of the whole thing now, but she knew better. With every minute that passed, she was learning more and more about how Tim operated. And the more she learned, the more she berated herself for not seeing it the first time around.

Tim loved rarely, but when he did, his love came fast and whole. For Tim, there was no in between, no limping along in a half-dead relationship for months on end because "things might get better." It was all or nothing with him, and that was why, apart from herself and Emily, his relationships never lasted very long. It was also why, a month into their relationship, he had made love to her, and in the hot, sweaty and satisfactory aftermath, he had pulled her close to him, and had murmured his love for her in her ear.

At the time, she had convinced herself that his avowal was as shallow as it was premature. _Spoken in haste and rescinded in haste_, she had thought. _People don't fall in love after a month_. How wrong she'd been. How absolutely wrong she had been. He had told her that he loved her because he had meant it, and Tim didn't see any point in hiding something that he knew to be true, poor timing be damned.

It probably wasn't the best policy to follow, she reflected. There was something to be said for emotional hesitancy, but she knew that even after having had his heart broken twice, even after being left at the altar, he would continue to employ the same policy of absolute honesty. That was, of course, assuming that he ever allowed himself to be drug out from the funk he had sunken into. Tim avoided pain by drawing into himself. Other men, she knew, drowned their sorrows in alcohol and easy women, but Tim was more likely to drown in his own thoughts. And she was bound and determined not to let him.

It was hazardous territory to tread. Tim was hurting, and he was capable of lashing out with the anger and intensity of a mother bear protecting her cubs. She took a deep breath, and spoke.

"It's over fifty percent," she said softly, and, not unexpectedly, he turned to stare at her, completely baffled.

"The divorce rate," she told him. "It's over fifty percent."

"Well that makes me feel better," he said sarcastically, before turning away.

It wasn't working. He was just as vacant and distant from her as he had been before he had sat down, and she was out of ideas, not that she had really had any to begin with, aside from the vague notion that she wasn't going to abandon him. But perhaps she had been wrong. Maybe she should have listened to Horatio, should have stepped back and given Tim his space. But damnit, she refused to let him do this to himself. Scarlett had kept Ashley from falling ass over teakettle into Melanie's grave, and she had been roundly chastised for it, something she had never understood. The woman was only stepping in to keep that fool of a man from breaking his damn neck. And now she was going to do the same for Tim.

Throwing her body into motion before she could convince herself otherwise, she reached over and took Tim's hand in hers. His hand was limp, the muscles refusing to flex, but he didn't pull away. Hope surged through her.

He shifted in the pew, and for a second, she thought he was going to pull his hand from hers. But he settled down quickly, and just as he let out a long sigh, he squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, elated.

"I wasn't happy to find you here," he admitted. "I thought that by now everyone would be long gone, and that I would be able to escape without having to deal with anyone, including myself."

She was just opening her mouth to apologize when he continued.

"But now I'm glad that you were here. You were the last person I wanted to see, but the one person I needed to. I can't tell you how much farther I've come in these fifteen minutes you've spent with me than in the three hours I spent sulking in the back."

She reached over to smooth down a particularly mussed patch of hair. "I'd do anything for you, Tim," she said quietly, wondering if he would hear what she was really trying to say, hoping and fearing in equal parts that he would understand. "It's my fault that you didn't know that earlier, but I'm telling you now, just so you'll know. I will always be here for you."

Tim met her gaze and held it, his deep brown eyes boring straight through her own blue ones. She watched as understanding dawned in his eyes, followed quickly by pain, and then, more slowly, by hope.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could she pressed her index finger against his lips, shushing him. "Not now," she told him. "I know that waiting isn't your strong suit, but please, just trust me this one time." His lips seared where her finger lay, the fire racing through him unexpectedly.

She continued. "You were right. Today wasn't –isn't – about me. It isn't even about you and me, our past or our future." Tim's eyes lit up at her words, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. "Today is about you, and only you. And that's why I stayed today, to be here for you. And I will be here for you tomorrow too, as well as the day after that, and the day after that. And then, maybe, hopefully, one day I will be here for us. But either way I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I won't let you scare me off this time, Tim, so you better get used to me being around."

He smiled, and she returned the smile, removing her finger once she was satisfied that he wasn't going to speak. She had said enough for the both of them today.

"Now, what do you say we get out of here?" she said, reluctantly releasing his hand and standing up. "I've had enough of playing dress-up for one day, and I know you're about to tear that suit off you."

Tim stood up, gathering his coat and tie. "You're right about that," he said, stepping out and away from the pew to allow her to step out in front of him.

In a few strides they were at the door, and Tim reached forward to push it open for her. Once outside, he caught up with her and took her hand in his, clasping it gently.

"Are you sure about this?" he said hesitantly.

"Absolutely," she answered, squeezing his hand.

"Because I have two weeks of vacation time, and there's no way in hell I'm spending it here in Miami."

"Isn't that convenient," she said, her voice holding more than a hint of a teasing tone. "So do I."

"Good," he said, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out two airline tickets. "The plane leaves in an hour. How does Colorado sound?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand. He squeezed hers back, and in that moment, he knew that he would be okay, and one day, so would they. She wasn't the girl whose hand he had planned on holding when he walked out of the church that day, but she was the one girl whose hand he never wanted to let go of.

The End


End file.
